so this is where you are.
dear father,
you are not a dad to me. i know other people have it bad, but i want to be selfish just this once, and rag on you, father, because you are not a dad to me. you are there, but away. you are a stranger. you don't reach over to me, you don't make any attempt to help me grow. sometimes i feel like i.. am on that brink of hating you, everything about you is so pathetic, it makes me want to scream. i feel bad for mom, for having to put up with you. to stay with you because she is a traditional chinese woman, and we are, on apperance, a traditional chinese family, and divorce is not a part of our lives. well. no, that's harsh.
i don't want you to leave our family, father, i love you. i know i do. i know we're soo alike. sometimes i pity you because it seems you are such a vegetable; mom will toss you and you just lie limp like a broken doll. i wonder if you're really happy.
we only care about you; we don't want you to drink and smoke and all that crap. you have been for so long. and it's SHAMEFUL, what you did the other night. people laugh at you, at us. they talk shit. they're not true friends, not really. they're all selfish. you should only need us dad. i mean, father. why aren't we good enough for you? why do I have to take care of YOU? i'm fifteen. you're forty-three. you're supposed to be my DAD.
i bet you won't remember that one time, when you drove me home? and just stayed at home. and got so pissing drunk, and knocked over your fucking beer and I WAS THE ONE WHO HAD TO CLEAN IT UP. so i told you to fucking go to sleep and you didn't even reprimand me for my foul mouth. you got some in my hair and eyes, daddy dear. and when you just stood there watching when mom went fucking NUTS, scratching at my face and pulling out locks of my hair, and i reached for you, "dad, help me, please," and you just stood there and watched and avoided my scrabbling hands. you didn't want to touch me dad. that's what hurts most, i think. i'm your daughter, and you didn't even want to touch me. i don't even remember the last time you told me i love you. if you ever did.
you always liked kyle more than me. because he's the boy. well, this is america, father. get used to equality, and start acting like a forty-three year-old man instead of some sixteen-year-old still. there's no place for you to party and get drunk when you have a family and a restaurant business to run.
sincerely,
your daughter.
dear kainalu,
i'm kind of glad i talked to you last night. because it made me realize that it's not you i miss, but your memory. i make you out to be greater than you are in my mind. and when i talk to you, i remember why we're not together. we're too different in ways that wouldn't click. you decieve me too much.
i wish i didn't let you finger me that night. i could still be amazingly pure. but oh well. you learn.
you think you're so fucking great. in britain, they say: piss off. :)
one day, maybe you'll realize what you lost. not saying i'm great or anything, but you. are pretty junk. ha.
always,
kariann.
dear whatever is out there,
if there really is a god or some higher being, show me the way?
always,
kari.
you are not a dad to me. i know other people have it bad, but i want to be selfish just this once, and rag on you, father, because you are not a dad to me. you are there, but away. you are a stranger. you don't reach over to me, you don't make any attempt to help me grow. sometimes i feel like i.. am on that brink of hating you, everything about you is so pathetic, it makes me want to scream. i feel bad for mom, for having to put up with you. to stay with you because she is a traditional chinese woman, and we are, on apperance, a traditional chinese family, and divorce is not a part of our lives. well. no, that's harsh.
i don't want you to leave our family, father, i love you. i know i do. i know we're soo alike. sometimes i pity you because it seems you are such a vegetable; mom will toss you and you just lie limp like a broken doll. i wonder if you're really happy.
we only care about you; we don't want you to drink and smoke and all that crap. you have been for so long. and it's SHAMEFUL, what you did the other night. people laugh at you, at us. they talk shit. they're not true friends, not really. they're all selfish. you should only need us dad. i mean, father. why aren't we good enough for you? why do I have to take care of YOU? i'm fifteen. you're forty-three. you're supposed to be my DAD.
i bet you won't remember that one time, when you drove me home? and just stayed at home. and got so pissing drunk, and knocked over your fucking beer and I WAS THE ONE WHO HAD TO CLEAN IT UP. so i told you to fucking go to sleep and you didn't even reprimand me for my foul mouth. you got some in my hair and eyes, daddy dear. and when you just stood there watching when mom went fucking NUTS, scratching at my face and pulling out locks of my hair, and i reached for you, "dad, help me, please," and you just stood there and watched and avoided my scrabbling hands. you didn't want to touch me dad. that's what hurts most, i think. i'm your daughter, and you didn't even want to touch me. i don't even remember the last time you told me i love you. if you ever did.
you always liked kyle more than me. because he's the boy. well, this is america, father. get used to equality, and start acting like a forty-three year-old man instead of some sixteen-year-old still. there's no place for you to party and get drunk when you have a family and a restaurant business to run.
sincerely,
your daughter.
dear kainalu,
i'm kind of glad i talked to you last night. because it made me realize that it's not you i miss, but your memory. i make you out to be greater than you are in my mind. and when i talk to you, i remember why we're not together. we're too different in ways that wouldn't click. you decieve me too much.
i wish i didn't let you finger me that night. i could still be amazingly pure. but oh well. you learn.
you think you're so fucking great. in britain, they say: piss off. :)
one day, maybe you'll realize what you lost. not saying i'm great or anything, but you. are pretty junk. ha.
always,
kariann.
dear whatever is out there,
if there really is a god or some higher being, show me the way?
always,
kari.